


Naked Feet

by ellipeps



Series: One Shots, Drabbles and Probably Shitty Ideas [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipeps/pseuds/ellipeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re only looking at people’s shoes you can’t really see them. You can tell a lot about them of course, fashion sense and practicality, if they buy new shoes or stick with their worn ones, but you can’t see them. You don’t know what colour their skin have, you don’t know if they have pink, black or blonde hair, you don’t know if their whole face is covered in tattoos or a big red beard. You don’t know if they have a prosthetic leg, you don’t know if they’re 20 or 50. The only thing you know is how they like their shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt I found on tumblr: http://meetcuteprompts.tumblr.com/post/108519293758/109-the-meet-cute

Castiel has always liked looking down. Not all the time, only when he’s around other people. Their faces, looks and arms and shoulders can feel suffocating. It’s too much all at once, the colours, the movements, the noise, the staring. If he looks down he can focus on the ground, on people’s feet. He could look up, but that’s not practical when you’re walking, so he keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

The ground shifts as he walks, a dirty road one day, a pavement the other, a gravelly road with sharp stones that’ll cut your feet if you’re walking barefoot, tarmac when he walks along the highways. Not only the ground changes. People wear different kind of shoes as well. Castiel has come to realise that shoes can tell a lot about a person.

In the winter people wear heavy shoes, laced boots with thick, rough soles so they won’t slip, lined with fake fur. But sometimes he comes across someone wearing sneakers in January, and he starts thinking about that person a bit more than he usually would. Why are they not wearing sensible shoes? Are they only going out to buy some milk in their local 7-Eleven? Aren’t they cold? Is it because they think boots are ugly? Don’t they have warmer shoes?

When you’re only looking at people’s shoes you can’t really see them. You can tell a lot about them of course, fashion sense and practicality, if they buy new shoes or stick with their worn ones, but you can’t _see_ them. You don’t know what colour their skin have, you don’t know if they have pink, black or blonde hair, you don’t know if their whole face is covered in tattoos or a big red beard. You don’t know if they have a prosthetic leg, you don’t know if they’re 20 or 50. The only thing you know is how they like their shoes.

You can also tell a lot about a person just by looking at how they walk. Some walk carelessly, not really going anywhere, while some walk determined, heels clicking, knees looking sharp, cutting through the masses. Some walk effortlessly, some walk with canes or a limp, or wobbling like penguins (usually pregnant women, but Castiel has seen more than one elderly man and small child walk like that as well). Some drags their feet behind them, reluctant to arrive wherever they’re going. Some run, some dance, some tiptoes.

Occasionally he bumps into someone, but that’s usually not his fault. He keeps his eyes on the ground, staring at people’s shoes, but he’s still aware of everyone moving around him, like a big mass spreading out to all places at once. He doesn’t bump into someone if they don’t walk right into him. Which people does. Usually the ones with clicking heels and sharp knees. The stressed ones. He mumbles out an apology and they huff in response, as if he should apologise for being walked into.

Today he’s walking around in Lawrence, Kansas, waiting for his brother to pick him up after work. It’s October, and raining. He doesn’t mind, he always smiles when he sees the colourful rain boots of small children jumping in puddles, and their annoyed parents’ feet tapping at the pavement.  

All of a sudden Castiel sees something he’s never seen. He’s never seen someone’s feet completely bare. In sandals, in socks, sure. But never naked. It feels oddly intimate.

“You are not wearing shoes,” he says before he can stop himself. The naked feet come to a halt in front of him and he looks up in shock, realising that he said it out loud. His eyes flicker over the man’s face quickly. It’s a nice face. A very nice face in fact. Green eyes, looking at him curiously, freckles over his nose, a sharp jawline made soft by scruff.

“I guess I’m not,” Green-Eyes says and Castiel tilts his head, looking at the man’s lips as he forms the words. He should probably look down again. He’s more comfortable doing that. Castiel trails his eyes down over broad shoulders, covered in a leather jacket, down to strong hands and bowed legs.

“Why?” Castiel asks when the man doesn’t leave. He can feel the man looking at him, looking at his feet.

“You see that man over there?” Green-Eyes says. Castiel looks up and looks over to where he is pointing. In the street corner sits a man wrapped in a blanket, with an orange knitted hat and a dog by his side, currently busy with tying his shoelaces. Castiel nods.

“I gave him my shoes.”

Castiel looks between Green-Eyes bare feet and the homeless man and back up at his face again. He smiles to himself, a big gummy smile. Green-Eyes smiles back.

“That’s very nice of you. Shoes are important.”

Green-Eyes laughs, but not like people usually does, he doesn’t laugh _at_ Castiel. He can’t stop staring, but he doesn’t really care, even if the rain is plastering his hair to his forehead.

“I’m Dean,” Green-Eyes says, “and I like your shoes.”


End file.
